


Gratitude

by pseudofaux



Category: Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY
Genre: "i love this gift but i love you so much you may destroy it while I watch", F/M, I see Sam Eagle going "WEIRDOS!" at Nobuyuki and this partner, fabric appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 10:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13233753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudofaux/pseuds/pseudofaux
Summary: For tumblr user saeneras, who directed me to just what I needed once, and then politely declined a drabble until I insisted. When I wore her down she asked for Nobuyuki.





	Gratitude

**Author's Note:**

> For tumblr user saeneras, who directed me to just what I needed once, and then politely declined a drabble until I insisted. When I wore her down she asked for Nobuyuki.

She couldn’t believe the beauty she was looking at. She wanted so badly to touch it but her own good sense held her fingers above the cloth. Someone should be prepared, perhaps even ritualistically, before laying hands on something so precious. So her fingertips hovered over the silk.

“…What do you think?” ask the ever-tranquil voice behind her, level, cool. But that he asked was its own kind of tell. Was he _worried_? Wouldn’t that be **_adorable_**. It would be great fun to needle him, but this present was generous and deserved good grace and thanks.

She took in one more look at the fabric before turning to address her husband. She allowed her smile to show her honest pleasure in the gift.

“I think this is lovely,” she said. “One of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I don’t feel quite worthy to touch it.”

Nobuyuki, eyes even more beautiful than the river-teal silk laid before them, smiled. But his face was tight. He brought a thumb to her jaw instead of speaking, sliding it up to flick her earlobe. She was determined not to shudder.

“What makes you feel you are not worthy?” he asked finally.

She looked back over her shoulder at the fine silk. The color was so exquisite it felt both comforting and heartbreaking to look at. How had the artists responsible for it achieved such vividness?

Still looking at the fabric, she said, “You misunderstand,” and reminded herself she was determined not to shudder. “But it is… amazing, and I think perhaps I should clean my hands before touching it.”

Nobuyuki pulled her face back with warm fingers. A part of her soul cried for the loss of the view of that silk. Another part thrilled at the familiar touch. His hand briefly caressed her jaw again before moving down to cup her neck. There was no danger in the gesture. She reminded herself for the third time that she was determined not to shudder.

When he caught her eyes with his own, Nobuyuki murmured, low enough that no one else in the hall could hear, “You are more precious to me than any fabric.”

Her lips curved, slow and comfortable. She knew just what he wanted to hear.

“You are more precious to me than anything,” she said.

He said nothing. But she saw the victorious fire in his gaze, as though an opal were turning just behind his eyes. Against her neck the muscles of his palm flexed minutely. One side of her mouth went higher.

“Shall I prove it to you?” she asked pleasantly.

His eyelashes, ash and silver, came closer together as his eyes narrowed. One of his cheeks betrayed a tiny, tiny tic. She was certain he was telling himself not to shudder.

She waited for him to speak as they looked at one another. Reminded herself: do not shudder. Or laugh.

He held out for a long moment. But eventually he caved (and she knew it cost him to do so, even to her, and promised herself she would make it worth his while), and he inclined his head, an eyebrow raising in invitation.

She stepped closer. Moved one hand to his shoulder, to stroke down his arm as she nodded back toward the fabric. Then she moved her lips to his ear.

She wet her lips and took a breath. And then, directly into his barely—but visibly, to her, at this distance—pink-tipped ear, she whispered. “Ruin it. Ruin me, _on_ it. Do as you wish.”


End file.
